


The Eyes of the Dying

by galacticlance



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Canon, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I have no regrets, M/M, Okay so this isn't tagged graphic depictions of violence but there is a pretty iffy nightmare scene, Pre-Canon, That Sorta Thing, completely self indulgent, god i love them, just be aware of that, ruthari, thought of this at like 12 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21592579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticlance/pseuds/galacticlance
Summary: But Runaan couldn’t let it get to him. Or, he couldn’t let anyone else see how much it got to him. He couldn’t let anyone see the steadily cracking wall that was his defences, he couldn’t let anyone see the guilt, he couldn’t let anyone see how he was crumbling from the inside out.So he didn’t. He hid his feelings, he showed next to no emotion, because even the slightest slip would cause the dam to break and everything to come rushing out. He was the epitome of everything an assassin should be; cold, unforgiving and unfeeling. Determined and relentless. And oh, how it tore him apart.------Being an assassin has hidden difficulties. It's harder than it looks, because the hardest thing about it can never be properly seen. Runaan has a reputation to uphold, he has a life he's built carefully for himself, and he cannot, under any circumstances let anyone see past his last wall. But sometimes, the burden becomes to big to carry alone.
Relationships: Runaan/Ethari (The Dragon Prince), Runaan/Tinker | Necklace Elf (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 155





	The Eyes of the Dying

**Author's Note:**

> First off, the nightmare scene. It is kinda a bit gory, with blood and a crumbling body, and murder. I'll mark where it stars and ends, so if you want to skip it, you can do so without sacrificing any of the plot. Just in case anyone is uncomfortable with this sorta stuff.
> 
> So if you know me, you will know I get a lot of midnight ideas that turn into oneshots when I have other stuff I really should be focusing on like zine deadlines. This is one of them.
> 
> Writing these two brings me so much joy, I cannot even begin to tell you how much I love them, and I can only hope reading this will bring you a fraction of the joy I felt while writing it. Also tears.
> 
> Once again, Tod was my beta, and may I say, I'm not sure I've had a beta as efficient as her. She got it all done and dusted in what, under an hour? Amazing. Much of the thank to Tod, who has [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DWreckoning) and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/daywreckoning/)
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/galacticlance), [Tumblr](https://galacticlance.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/galacticlance_/) as well.
> 
> Leave a comment with your thoughts! They make my day(s), and I will love you forever.

Being an assassin.

It meant learning to distance yourself. Learning to detach yourself from reality, learning to exist outside of your body in that one moment. It meant blocking things from your memory, it meant doing what was right no matter what, it meant building yourself a wall and never letting it crumble.

Runaan had these skills mastered. Of course he did, he was the best assassin Silvergrove had to offer. He had them mastered, but even a master could never reach perfection.

He was very good at forcing himself to forget. At taking the memories and locking them away, never to see the light of the moon again. He was very good, but there was one thing he could never shake.

No matter who, no matter how bad they were, no matter what justice was brought in their death, it was always the same. The eyes of dozens upon dozens of victims remained burned into his mind. 

Their eyes, always different, always the same. Elf, human, there was no difference. The terror, the fear, the realisation that they were never coming back from this. The light as it faded. It haunted his every moment. 

But Runaan couldn’t let it get to him. Or, he couldn’t let anyone else see how much it got to him. He couldn’t let anyone see the steadily cracking wall that was his defences, he couldn’t let anyone see the guilt, he couldn’t let anyone see how he was crumbling from the inside out. 

So he didn’t. He hid his feelings, he showed next to no emotion, because even the slightest slip would cause the dam to break and everything to come rushing out. He was the epitome of everything an assassin should be; cold, unforgiving and unfeeling. Determined and relentless. And oh, how it tore him apart.

Every night, it was the eyes. Faces blurred but eyes clear as crystal, that moment when the life escaped them replayed over and over and over again.

It took its toll. With so many sleepless nights, Runaan became fatigued, weakened, he became sloppy. Still good in the eyes of most, but not as good as he knew he could be. 

He started making excuses, giving the victims to someone else, anything as long as he was not the one to shoot the arrow, drive the blade, the one to kill. It barely helped.

Ethari noticed it too. At first, he would almost hover, worried, asking over and over if Runaan was okay, if he needed to talk about it. After a while of nothing but silence, he stopped. He didn’t stop being there for him, but he stopped pressing.

And that was what Runaan hated most about it. He could deal with his own hurt, that was fine. It didn’t matter how much pain _he_ was in, mentally or physically, just as long as it didn’t hurt anyone else.

Ethari was in pain, because of him. _For_ him. He was worried, scared, just too damn empathetic. But Runaan wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about it yet. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to bring his darkest parts to face the light, even if that light was the most trusted, most loved person in his life. 

But for Ethari, he would try. 

The only burial rituals he knew were those given to Moonshadow elves, they would have to do. He held the modest ceremonies at night, away from the Silvergrove, where only he was present. 

The new moon was always the weakest time for moonshadow elves, the night they were at their most vulnerable. It was the night they chose to honour their dead, the ones who had passed, but would be born anew one day. It was a night of humility, of remembering, a night where strength didn’t matter, where all were as close to mundane as could get. It was a night to honour those who had fallen. Those who were gone, but would return bright in the minds of all those they touched.

A warrior’s ritual was rarely performed with a body, it was the one given to assassins who never returned. 

He was no craftsman like his husband, but he would do his best. An arrow, enchanted to fade to the moonlight of which it was created from, and tied to its shaft, a ribbon of life and death. It would shine bright in the moon’s absence, extinguishing itself when there was nothing left to burn. 

It wasn’t much in comparison to a proper ceremony, but was the best he could do alone. 

Three arrows loosed. Three pleas for forgiveness, three victims remembered, honoured, and their memories put to rest. 

And it helped. The rubble that had fallen from Runaan’s walls was beginning to slot back in. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. 

Ethari didn’t question his return in the early hours of the morning, he didn’t question why Runaan’s bow was in his hands, he didn’t question anything, only opened his arms and pulled him close. 

Runaan slept peacefully for the first time in what felt like forever. 

\---------༻☾༺---------

He repeated his midnight rituals until the moon’s light was too bright, until the crescent was too big for the ceremony. But there were still so, so many eyes left. It would take months to put them all to rest. Months that could not come fast enough.

It wasn’t long until it all caught up with him again. Until the nightmares returned, and it wasn’t long until he was sent out yet again.

He did everything he could, but in the end, it was his blade that had cut the flesh.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he pulled the metal from the body, hoping they knew it was genuine. 

Another pair of eyes that would burden him.

It was not the night that followed that drove the hurt home, nor the night after that. It wasn’t until almost a week later, home, safe in Ethari’s arms. 

_[nightmare scene begins here]_

The nightmare started out bad, chasing a hazy figure down halls, through corridors of trees, across landscapes Runaan had never visited. The figure ran fast, but they would stumble, they would cry out, and Runaan would be unable to stop closing in on them.

He had his blades in his hands, one in each. Quiver empty, no chance to peg them from afar and save himself the pain. 

He was close now, the figure becoming more defined, as if stepping from the fog. He recognised them, but he could not tell you the colour of their outfit, their height, what species they were.

Unable to control his dream self, Runaan leapt onto the figure, knocking them to the ground. They were still hazy, still achingly familiar yet completely alien. 

Gripping his blade with both hands - for such was the nature of dreams that consistency had no meaning, two blades had become one with no notice - he plunged it into his victim’s heart.

Blood began to seep out, staining the dark fabric, spreading over the wool of the purple scarf.

No.

Horrified, dream Runaan swept his gaze up to Ethari’s face. 

It was the same. The fear, the heartbreaking despair, the momentary hatred, before… before the glowing bronze eyes he had loved all his life faded to dull copper, with the impact of all the lives he had taken at once.

The blood was still pooling, sticky and thick, coating his fingers, dripping down his arms, turning his beloved red with death.

He looked up at Ethari’s eyes again, to see the colour leeched, irises grey, pupils expanding, holes sucking in Ethari’s crumbling features like dust into a void, spreading out out _out_ until all that was left was the blood, the blade, and Runaan, trapped, imprisoned with what he had done.

_[nightmare scene over]_

He awoke, gasping, terrified, the moment of Ethari’s death replaying over and over and over in his mind. 

“Runaan?” Ethari’s voice was thick and almost raspy from sleep. “Moonshine, are you okay?” He asked after receiving only heavy breathing as an answer. 

“I… Ethari, I…” He was breaking down, his walls falling ever faster and crushing him, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Oh, Runaan, it’s okay. I’m here.” In the dark, he had come closer, wrapping his arms around a broken Runaan and pulling him close to his chest. “You’re okay, now. I’m here, I’m here.” Runaan could feel Ethari’s mouth move against the crown of his head, in the space between his horns.

A lone tear escaped the overflowing well that was his eyes, rolling down his cheek and meeting with Ethari’s chest. It wasn’t long until another followed, then another, and another, and another.

His crying was silent, still. Soothed by the gentle motion of Ethari’s fingers combing his hair, by his voice, whispering, always reminding him that he wasn’t alone, that he was here, that it was okay to not be okay.

It grounded him, being in Ethari’s arms. It gave him something to lean back on, some _one_ to lean back on. Something he hadn’t known he’d needed so badly until now. 

After a while, the seemingly bottomless well ran dry. Runaan drew a shaky breath, but he had calmed down significantly now, simply by being with Ethari. 

A thumb brushed his cheek, catching the last of the tears and wiping away the wetness. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ethari’s voice was soft, asking genuinely. Runaan knew that if he said no, the matter would not be brought up again. He was almost tempted to do so.

But he didn’t. He’d fought this battle alone for so long, hiding it away from all who knew him, all who cared about him. He’d been ashamed, he’d been _scared_. Perhaps it was time to let someone else join him. Perhaps it was time to let someone else fight beside him, perhaps it was time to let Ethari into the deepest parts of himself.

“I- I had a nightmare.” he screwed his eyes tight like a child who believed that if they just concentrated hard enough, that as long as they couldn’t see anyone, they would be invisible. 

“Runaan…” Ethari pulled back a touch, pulling a stray strand of hair behind Runaan’s ear and pressing a soft kiss to the furrow between his eyebrows. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, I promise you. Everyone has nightmares.”

Eyes still tightly closed but brow smoothed by his husband’s touch, Runaan leaned in until his forehead was pressed against Ethari’s chest once again.

“I dreamt that… that I… it was _you,_ Ethari, and I couldn’t do anything.”

“Hey.” Ethari nudged his chin up with a gentle finger. “I’m okay, it was just a dream.” And to prove it, he slotted their lips together in an achingly tender kiss. A promise. That he was here no matter what, and that he loved him, no matter what.

They broke apart, but Ethari didn’t go far, pressing their foreheads together so they were almost nose to nose. 

“Whatever it is, my love, you can tell me, in your own time. I will wait, forever, if I have to. But whenever you’re ready, I will listen, and I _promise_ , I will never think any less of you for it.”

Runaan covered the hand pressed to his cheek with his own, holding it tight.

“It’s always their eyes. I can forget everything else, but never the eyes. They follow me, they won’t go away, I have to see them die again and again and _again_.”

“Runaan… I have no words. I wish I did, but I have none. That is truly horrid, is there anything I can do to help? To help _you_? Anything at all.”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” he admitted, eyes squeezing shut again. “But… just talking to you. Being with you, knowing you’re listening. I… I didn’t want to hurt you with any of this, and I was so scared that I had, but talking… I don’t feel fine yet, but I feel… better. Just a little, but better.”

“Runaan you could _never_ hurt me with any of this.” Ethari’s voice was that strange quality of forceful yet softer than ever that only few had the ability to use. “I am your husband, any burden you carry I will willingly take on if it means the weight on your shoulders is lifted. What hurt most is that you wouldn’t tell me anything, even when I could see something was wrong. You wouldn’t even admit it, but we both knew. All I want to do is help you, Runaan. Because I love you, and seeing you in pain makes my heart ache for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And don’t say sorry, either. You have done nothing wrong, and I refuse to let you think that you have.”

“I-”

“Ah,” he warned.

“I apologise.” The ghost of a smile twitched at the corner of Runaan’s mouth.

“What did I _just_ say?” Ethari leaned away rolling his eyes and grinning.  
“I didn’t say sorry!”

“Oh, pheenix-phonix, and you know it.” He pecked the end of Runaan’s nose affectionately. “But besides that, I’m glad I could help, in whatever way.”

“There’s actually something else. Another way you could help, if you were willing…”

\---------༻☾༺---------

When the moon was empty enough for a warrior’s ritual, Runaan made his way to the clearing in which he had been performing the rituals last time. But this time, he wasn’t alone. 

Ethari had enchanted a quiverful of arrows, had found the necessary amount of ribbons that Runaan needed. His bow was far simpler than Runaan’s, but then again, it was not made for an assassin. 

Together, they nocked an arrow each. Together, they aimed at the dying moon, and together, they loosened their burdens. Runaan said his part, and although Ethari had never met the victims, he too asked for forgiveness.

They stood, hand in hand, watching the last of the moonlit arrows fade against the moon’s darkened face, and finally, Runaan felt at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't have a fic to rec BUT I have one bookmarked for when I have time. Once read I'm sure it'll go here (or the next fic I write hfdjs).
> 
> As ever, you have a ruthari fic? Yeet me the link so I can dEVOUR IT.
> 
> This was short, but I hope it was good. As ever, these two elf husbands own my entire heart, and I would die for them. 
> 
> Once again, I have [Twitter](https://twitter.com/galacticlance), [Tumblr](https://galacticlance.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/galacticlance_/), or you could leave a comment :D


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